


petrichor

by rusticshrubs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Interrogation, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Kidnapping, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Rape Recovery, Sad Keith (Voltron), Sad Lance (Voltron), Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusticshrubs/pseuds/rusticshrubs
Summary: Taking place in S7E04 "The Way Forward," Lance is singled out as Ezor and Zethrid interrogate the team - resulting in a destructive string of events.





	petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> wow i am never writing anything this long in such a short amount of time hOO  
> this fic is pain, more pain, and then some healing near the end. this fic is notttt smut. never. nah. if u came for smut, u will be severely disappointed - and probably sad. this is a sad fic. 
> 
> just a disclaimer: if you are triggered by any themes in this, please exit now.

##  **_petrichor_ **

_ ( _ _ ˈpɛtrɪˌkɔː _ _ ) _

_ n _

_ a sweet smell that is produced when rain falls on parched earth _

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

“Who’s our first victim?” The colorful alien questioned, leaning toward the group as she mockingly extended her hand. 

 

Immediately, Keith drew back his cuffed wrists, gritting his teeth. He was prepared at any moment to lash out and fight for his life. Krolia, next to him, did the same. The team was crammed into one room with no escape - sentries bearing guns, and two villainous warlords interrogating them. Each question lead to more questions, and it seemed as if Lotor’s ex-accomplices were incapable of listening even when they answered to the best of their knowledge. Their loud yelling was getting on Keith’s nerves, too. The word  _ victim  _ sent a threatening chill through his body.  _ Can’t they just listen?  _ he thought in frustration. 

 

“You,” the larger blue alien hissed out, grinning venomously - staring to the middle of the room. “I bet half my fleet that this group of heroes has a soft spot for the small one.” 

 

Realizing what she was implying, Keith turned his head to look at Pidge.  _ Small one. Who else could they be talking about?  _ As soon as the words were spoken, the other warlord began slowly walking over to the Green Paladin. A menacing smile spread across her face. 

 

“Don’t you touch her!” Lance shouted suddenly from across the room, lashing out with handcuffed fists. He tried to land a hasty punch on the slim alien, but she quickly dodged his attack, snaking around him to land a powerful kick on his torso. The Blue Paladin let out a pained cry as he fell to the floor, whipping his head up to glare into the barrel of a gun. Keith felt a drip of sweat fall from his face.  _ This isn’t good. _

 

The looming aliens scoffed at him. “Your defiance is adorable, and so very misguided.” This time, the caped, muscular warlord approached Lance. “How about we show your team what happens to disobedient prisoners?” 

 

She roughly lifted him up by his neck armor, dark yellow eyes narrowing. An aggressive warning rumbled from her throat as she held him in the air. Lance let out a battered cough, but maintained eye contact with her intimidating figure. 

 

Keith couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He had to  _ do  _ something. “Leave him alone!” the Black Paladin growled, moving forward only to receive a cautionary shove and a gun to his chest. Hunk spoke as well, eyes worried and frantic. “Yeah, we’ve told you everything we know!” 

 

“Don’t hurt him!” Pidge hollered, small arms moving up to her chest in a protective gesture. 

 

_ “Don’t hurt him?” _ the orange one laughed cruelly. “I don’t think you understand exactly how interrogations operate,” she responded, placing a hand on her hip. She shared a look with her accomplice, and Keith’s blood ran cold.  _ What were they plotting?  _ The more Lance struggled in the grasp of the aliens’ scaly hands, the more he wanted to reach him. He was doing this to protect them, Keith knew it - but it wasn’t fair. Lance didn’t deserve this. 

 

His mother seemed to notice as well, and stepped forward slightly. “What are you planning?” Krolia asked calmly, her tone dangerously neutral. Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed sharply. “Hurting any of us won’t benefit you in the slightest. Let him go.” 

 

Keith nodded and curled his hand into a fist. He eyed Allura, Romelle, Hunk, and Pidge who were crouched on the ground by his feet. They seemed as prepared to fight as he was. The caped alien sneered. “How touching. Judging by how compassionate you are toward this one, he seems like the most appealing subject to get you to talk.” 

 

Lance hit the ground with an  _ oof _ while the shorter warlord approached the group. “I’m going to ask some questions. _ Again. _ And if I don’t believe your answers,” she glanced over her shoulder at the Red Paladin, “ _ he’s  _ going to pay for it.” 

 

“Why are you doing this? Release him at once!” Allura gritted out, curling her legs up to her chest. Her turquoise eyes gleamed angrily. 

 

Without turning around, the woman smirked. “Zethrid.” 

 

The Black Paladin’s eyes widened as Lance received a violent punch to the face. He was shoved to the floor once again - body slamming against the metal. Keith exhaled a helpless sound before moving forward instinctively. “Lance!” He gasped. The rest of the group cried out for the Red Paladin. 

 

Instead of stopping, the warlord continued to attack him as he groaned in pain on the ground. He didn’t realize he was yelling until she stopped, his throat aching. Keith felt sick as Lance coughed weakly, fingering the wounds on his face. “Don’t… don’t tell them anything,” he managed to wheeze out from across the room after pause of tense silence. His head was bleeding - a trickle of crimson easing down his forehead. Keith glowered vehemently at the aliens.  _ Stop it.  _

 

_ “Wow,”  _ the slim warlord said, eyes widening. “It’ll be  _ fun  _ breaking you!” 

 

Keith scowled, heart aching for his teammate. “You let him go, or else…”

 

“Or else  _ what?”  _ Zethrid seethed. “What can a group of lowlife heroes do?” She retorted deeply, driving her heel into Lance’s back - causing a sharp cry of pain to escape his bloodied lips. His body rose and fell weakly as he breathed, but Keith could see him struggling to stay conscious.  _ Oh, Lance…  _

 

“Lance, hang in there,” Keith muttered as he tried to formulate a plan that didn’t involve anyone getting shot or maimed. He scanned the room once again - his teammates’ tense faces, the warlords’ threatening grins, the sentries’ guns…  _ Maybe he could steal a gun.  _

 

“Where is Lotor and where have you been all this time?” Zethrid shouted angrily, eyes meeting Keith’s. 

 

“We told you! He’s in the quintessence field! He died from overexposure,” he replied, gaze lowering to where Allura was sitting. She flinched a bit with his words.

 

After a pause of silence, the shorter warlord sighed deeply. Keith’s mouth went dry.

“I guess we’ll have to turn up the heat. Take him away, Zethrid.”

 

“No!” The Black Paladin shouted, rushing forward and dodging under one of the sentries. Shiro’s voice stood out from the rest of the group’s warnings - telling him to stay where he was. 

 

“Keith, stop!”

 

“Don’t!”

 

He managed to whip his hand around the back of their gun, pulling it toward himself. It spun through the air above their heads, his arm stretching out to grasp onto the handle. Before his fingertips even brushed the weapon, he was shoved to the ground and placed in a painfully tight hold around his elbows. All of the air in his lungs was forcefully pushed out when one of the warlords dug her heel into his back. 

 

“Looks like we’ve caught another one, Ezor.” Zethrid said from across the room, malicious intent shadowing her slanted eyes. Keith struggled to find Shiro and his mother from where he was - gritting his teeth as he was artlessly torn from the floor. He prayed to whatever god or deity that was out there that Coran would make it to them in time. His ears pricked for a moment when he heard a weak, strained voice behind him. “Keith…” 

 

He turned his head to stare at Lance’s beaten form - struggling to stand on his feet as Zethrid held him up. Their eyes met, and something fiery emerged from his stomach.  _ She would pay for that.  _

 

A colorful blur passed his sight as he was dragged to the door. “The rest of you are  _ booooring.  _ The real show is with these two ‘heroes.’ Maybe I will get to have some fun after all,” Ezor grinned, eyeing Lance like a predator ready to sink her teeth into his skin.  _ Stop looking at him like that,  _ Keith seethed inside. 

 

“Bye-bye,” she sung, wiggling her thin fingers to the remaining group as they called out to Lance and Keith desperately. The door slid shut, and things were quiet for a moment. He looked up at his captor, staring at the sharp outline of her jaw. She spoke without looking at him. 

 

“Zethrid.”

 

The woman holding onto Lance (who looked nearly ready to pass out) grunted out a muffled reply. Then, he was being pulled in another direction - away from the Paladins. Away from Shiro and Krolia. From Hunk and Pidge and Allura. No.  _ No. _

 

Before he had a chance to protest, a slithering hand reached behind his neck to grasp his hair. For a terrifying moment, he thought she was going knock him out. When she didn’t, it gave him no comfort. The hairs on his arm stood straight up as Ezor’s smooth voice echoed into his ears. He felt her cold breath on his neck.  _ “Walk.”  _

 

He saw Lance stumbling along with the warlord in front of him, and decided that it was better to be with one teammate than by himself. So, reluctantly, he walked. He tried to focus on Lance’s breathing movement over the stinging of his arms.  _ Patience yields focus.  _ Keith craned his neck to memorize the hallways they were walking through - counting the numbers and making a mental image of their setting. At one point, Ezor flicked his wrist and hissed at him to look ahead. He held back a retort. 

 

They eventually reached another room - one separated from the rest. It was at the end of a lonely hallway, lights darkening as they approached the door. He didn’t feel safe, and neither did Lance apparently, because they both made cautious eye contact when the door eerily slid open. They were shoved inside in protest and thrown to separate sides of the room. Lance’s handcuffs were hooked onto a bar that spread a few meters across, and Keith was made to mirror it. 

 

The two women exchanged glances, and for some reason - the gleam in their eyes made Keith shudder. Something wasn’t right. The slim one stepped toward Lance. 

 

“Honestly, I don’t really care if you lie to us.”

 

“What?” The Red Paladin stuttered, eyes widening from his previously lidded state. His voice was rough and scratchy, and it was then, that Keith realized how bad their situation was. Lance had poignant bruises blooming on his face - and undoubtedly under his armor as well. The blood from his head was dry now, but there was still a shine to it. He might not survive if he took much more. 

 

“If Lotor truly is dead, then all we need to do is take you and your precious friends on a little space adventure.” Zethrid said. Ezor grinned, continuing. “Rip off your helmets and  _ poof _ , you’re goners. We won’t have Voltron to worry about.” 

 

“You’re sick,” Keith mumbled as he glared up at them. 

 

“Oh? Well, what if I did  _ this? _ ” 

 

Ezor began to unclasp Lance’s armor. The Red Paladin immediately drew back, eyebrows slanting as he yelped. “What are you doing!?” As soon as he spoke, a hand slapped him across the face, and Lance jolted his eyes shut from the pain.  _ He was already so beaten up, why hurt him more? _ He didn’t protest anymore as his Paladin armor was removed, but the shake in his body was visible enough from Keith’s view.

 

The half-Galra clenched his fists, feeling helpless. Ezor didn’t respond to him, humming as she reached Lance’s black undersuit. She tossed his armor to one corner of the room, hollowly hitting the floor - the noise extending through the silence. 

 

_ Stop touching him.  _ He could see the Cuban Paladin’s breath stutter, gritting his teeth hard. His panicked blue eyes met Keith’s own, and he tugged against his own restraints frantically. Keith just returned to the team, this couldn’t be how… It wasn’t going to end like this. 

 

“Lance…” He wavered, words quieter than he intended. 

 

Lance didn’t look at him.

 

Ezor finally spoke again, silky voice becoming much rougher. “You boys are adorable. Your concern for each other will make this even more fun, don’t you think?” 

 

Zethrid huffed in agreement, adjusting her cloak. The nonchalance of the two warlords sparked a fire of anger in Keith, and apparently Lance as well, because an indignant scoff was heard from his side of the room. That noise alone gave him a bit of comfort. Lance was still Lance. He worried constantly when he was alone with his mother for two years that when he returned everyone would be different. In the end though, no matter how much Lance had matured, he still carried the qualities that Keith found most endearing to his personality. 

 

Ezor turned her head as she gripped Lance’s arm roughly, detaching him from the restraints. “Don’t wait up, pretty boy,” she said to Keith, smiling. He helplessly looked Lance in the eyes. A similar expression flooded his features before the Red Paladin’s lips upturned slightly.  _ Don’t you worry about me,  _ he seemed to be saying. Keith felt his throat close up, tried to speak, but nothing came out except a forlorn gasp of air. 

 

He felt his arms go numb as Lance was shoved out of the room.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

“Where are you taking me?” Lance demanded, lips curling up in a twisted shape that could be interpreted as either  _ punch me, _ or  _ I’m freaking out.  _ The lack of response from the aliens was infuriating to say the least, but he really didn’t want to get beat up again.  _ Not fun.  _ He decided to stop talking when the scary buff one glared at him out of the corner of her eye. 

 

He stumbled through the winding hallways, trying to find the room where the rest of his group was quarantined in. Most of them looked identical, making it even harder to determine. He didn’t get a good look at his surroundings before, mostly because he was blinded with pain as he was beaten to a pulp. His bones still ached from his previous attack. Lance let out a sigh.

 

He wondered how Keith was doing, all alone in that creepy cell. Better than him, hopefully. They had quite the moment back there, and as much as Lance from years ago would have shaken his head and denied their closening relationship, right now he couldn’t care less. Honestly, he could have even gone for a hug if that was an option -  instead of being chained to a bar, undressed, and taken away once again. Something warm bloomed inside of his chest as he imagined what embracing Keith would feel like. He probably was ripped underneath that bulky armor. Pink blushed across his face. 

 

 _Not the time to daydream about what touching Keith’s muscles feels like,_ he chided himself. Another repressed part of his mind surfaced. _It’s not your fault he came back looking all cool and grizzled,_ it countered. Lance supposed Keith had always been attractive, he just never really looked at him. He looked _through_ him, too busy trying to understand his edgy, emotional side, other than his physical attributes. 

 

When he returned - two years ahead with a body that didn’t seem familiar, Lance didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to act with him. Were they on the same terms as Keith’s messed up sense of time? The Cuban pilot had felt so lonely after he left, and undoubtedly he was sure Keith felt the same. The team ignored him, Shiro yelled at him - and even though he now knew that it wasn’t actually Shiro - it still hurt, being brushed off so often. No one to defend Lance, who was too unconfident in his self-esteem to stand up for himself. To his chagrin, as he welcomed Keith with open arms upon his return, he was brushed off by him as well. 

 

_ What was he doing so… wrong?  _ He remembered thinking.  _ I just want to go home.  _ And now he was, but this detour was resulting in agony and injury. Bitterness crawled up his throat.  _ This isn’t fair.  _

 

The voice of his abuelita responded sassily:  _ Life isn’t fair, little Lance.  _

He hoped she was doing okay on Earth. Something harsh and grim told him that she wasn’t.

 

He felt exposed without his armor, and if he knew anything about being captured - no one wanted to feel vulnerable. His skin prickled from the cold. The warlords on each side of him were either reptilian or covered in fur. Humans were built so weakly. Lance remembered breaking his wrist when he was younger, waking up to the fragility of the body.  _ And pain. So much pain.  _

 

Lance was suddenly pulled to a stop in front of another room. This time, the lights were a dim crimson, somehow making the warlords even more terrifying to look at. He decided to keep his head down and not say anything, to spare him at least a bit of pain before he was undoubtedly tortured. Zethrid stoically turned to the woman gripping his arm. “Ezor, you have three vargas.”

 

She huffed in annoyance, “that’s all I have?” 

 

Lance suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome him. Three hours. Three hours of being in her scaly grip. His tongue felt stuck to the back of his throat. Sweat dripped down his back like tears. _ Somebody, help me, _ he prayed.  _ Anyone.  _

 

He was tugged to the side of the door, anxious heart racing. Not for the first time, Lance wanted to disappear. 

 

“You know the subordinate generals will complain if they don’t get their turn. We offered them a bite, didn’t we?” 

 

Lance didn’t want to know what that meant. A slow realization emerged from their constant behavior, merging like puzzle pieces to an image he didn’t want to see. He could only hope that they weren’t implying what he was picking up on. 

 

“ _ Finnne, _ ” Ezor sighed, picking at her shirt. She looked down at Lance, the first time since he was taken away from Keith. Her eyes gleamed dangerously. “We’re going to have some fun, hero.” 

 

The obvious threat hung in the air. 

 

Lance was lead through the doors, sliding open after Ezor typed a code into a metal panel.  _ 2-a-7-6-0.  _ He memorized the sequence through his panicked mind, repeating it over and over like a mantra. 

 

The buff warlord left them alone in the room, Lance watching her turn around as the doors shifted shut, and he fearfully wondered if she was going back to Keith. The thought of that somehow seemed worse than what he was experiencing.

 

Ezor lead him to the middle of the space where two handcuffs hung ominously from the smooth, dark ceiling. Lance inhaled deeply, trying to prepare his wrists for the strain they were going to be under. He felt so weak. His sister Veronica would’ve told him to fight. His abuelita would’ve punched her way through everything. So would Shiro, and Pidge, and Keith... Pretty much anyone in the team could have weaved their way around obstacles that he was facing. Sadistic warlord? Chained to a ceiling with little to no path of escape, sporting grave injuries?  _ No hay problema. _

 

Everything in his body ached. A string of red dried cooly on his forehead, trailing down his cheek. All Lance wanted to do was shut his eyes. Sleep away the fear, the pain, the exhaustion. But he couldn’t do that, not when his team was counting on him. He couldn’t - he  _ would not  _ die here. 

 

Without thinking, Lance kicked out at Ezor, fatigue blinding his senses. She expertly dodged his attack, appearing behind him to dig her hands into his throat. He choked, tears brimming in his eyes, vision going blurry as the warlord slammed him against the wall. A sickening  _ crack _ echoed through his head.  _ That didn’t work,  _ he thought sarcastically. His disoriented limbs were pulled up above his head to attach to the handcuffs. 

 

He dangled from the ceiling, wrists already aching. His bones popped as he swung his legs around instinctively, growling in irritation as they met empty air. A blur of color laughed as it taunted him, swirling around his form, confusing him. Lance wanted to cry. “Stop it!” he tried yelling. It came out as a whimper. 

 

The game of tag eventually stopped, and Lance let his lower half wither tiredly. He hung his head, tears nearly spilling out. 

 

“Given up, have you?” The venomous voice reverberated through his spinning head. “No…” he stammered, coughing up bloody saliva. He felt a hand against his chest, wrenching at his remaining clothes. The fingertips were thin and cold, but strong. His eyes jolted open, fear striking him awake. “No!” he yelled, tugging at his restraints. A black cloth covered his eyes, consuming his world in darkness. 

 

The hands still pried at his undersuit, tearing the fabric and digging into his skin. He felt pricks of pain amongst his growing bruises from before. Purple mixing with red, dyeing his tan skin. He struggled, kicking his leg out again - receiving a blow to his stomach. “Ah!” He screamed, voice cracking. Her fingers returned, scratching through his clothes. His shirt was now a mess of mangled, blood-stained fabric. The cool air prickled the small hairs of his skin, goosebumps tickling his injured body. 

 

“You’re a cute one -  _ Lance _ , was it?” 

 

He wanted to scream at her to never say his name again, in fear he might begin to hate it. Hate the name his mamá blessed him with. His voice felt empty as he coughed out a strangled “ _ no _ .”

 

The warlord’s hands felt his skin, trailing up his body until one of them reached his neck. It curled around him, his breathing becoming louder with each moment. The other arm reached down to his torso, and lower… She touched his hips, scratching through the material, reaching his freezing skin again. Lance cried out as teeth bit into his shoulder. 

 

“Stop it…” He begged, voice shaking. 

 

At the end of the day, Lance was just Lance. A guy who was thrown into space by a sentient robot cat, but nothing in his adventures would have prepared him for anything like  _ this _ . Quiznack, he hated it so much. He hated feeling so helpless, so useless. He wasn’t in control of his body, the last thing he was confident enough with. Now it was being used against him for somebody’s sadistic pleasure. What would he have left?

 

The woman gripped his thighs roughly, pulling his body forward as her nails pierced him, digging her teeth further into his neck. He tried to restrain a muffled yelp, eyebrows furrowing deeply.  _ It’s a nightmare. _ It was all just a nightmare. He clenched his hands into fists as the mouth reached his own. She pinched his lips with her teeth, splitting them open - blood spilling out. He tried to bite down, but she quickly recoiled - slapping him across the face. 

 

“You really think you’re in the position to try anything,  _ Paladin?” _ She said the word like it was the most laughable thing in the universe. “You’re going to regret that.” 

 

_ As if he didn’t know,  _ Lance scoffed inwardly. The fear was slithering around his heart, into his throat. He desperately wanted her to stop touching him, but she didn’t. Her onslaught of violence increased angrily as she bit into his skin, gripping his arms to keep him in place. She poked and pried at him, hands everywhere. They shredded the last of his clothes, and he shivered at the sudden burst of cold air around him. Lance’s face reddened at the exposure, terrified of the embarrassment overcoming him. Terrified of what it meant.

 

Before her hands could touch him anymore, he heard the sliding door open with a smooth  _ shhk! _ A shred of hope, amongst the horrified despair, filled his vision like a ray of sunlight. 

 

“What are you doing in here?” Ezor shouted, fiercely releasing Lance. 

 

He exhaled shakily, wincing at his injuries that were slowly making themselves present. He felt streams of blood trickle down his body. It was cold, and he was terrified, but he might be saved. His heart dropped as soon as he heard the voices from behind the door. The sunlight was snuffed out. They didn’t sound like anyone he knew. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they spoke to the warlord like they knew her closely. 

 

_ “Fine… early… make it quick… half… varga…” _

 

Lance strained his ears, but they were too far away. He tugged lightly against his restraints. If there was a time to escape, now would be it. Pushing his legs off from the wall, he crouched as his arms shook from the painful pressure. He pulled his wrists together so he could grip a restraint in one hand, trying to figure out how it worked. Unfortunately, before he could, his foot slipped from the wall, and his head slammed into the metal behind him.

 

“Ow…”

 

Footsteps began approaching him, and the anxiousness from before increased tenfold.  _ Not again. I can’t do this again. _ A deep, menacing voice appeared in front of Lance. He shivered. “You got a pretty one, Ezor.” 

 

She scoffed, her voice disappearing as she walked farther away. “Yeah, yeah. You bastards can’t tell time, judging by how early you are. I’m not finished with him, so don’t ruin anything.”

 

“Says you,” another one retorted, close behind the first alien. Ezor just laughed, and the door closed shut. 

 

Lance felt paralyzed, lip quivering in fear. He was a little kid again.  _ I want to go home.  _ He tensed himself for the hands that inevitably touched his skin. They were large and rough, gripping his forearm as someone brushed their fingers over his bare stomach. He whimpered, hands shaking violently. Everything felt wrong.  _ It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  _

 

Someone’s mouth was on his again, and in the back of his mind - behind the fear and terrifying certainty that these moments would be his last - he remembered that he never kissed anyone before. In a dark jail cell, chained by his crusted bloody wrists, tears streaming down his cheeks, Lance was being kissed out of lust by someone he didn’t know. Deep gashes appeared wherever the new hands went, scratching his face and chest. His torso and hips were lifted, and that was when something snapped. 

 

He threw his head up, and screamed as loudly as he could. Out of pain, and out of a foolish hope that someone was going to get him out of his dirty jail cell. 

 

As soon as the noises escaped his mouth, a needle was stabbed into his shoulder. His senses were numbed, and his vision became blurry. It was deathly silent as the hands continued to roam his body, and his eyelids drooped tiredly.  _ They drugged me, _ he thought hopelessly. His thoughts shifted to the team. He hoped they were safe. He hoped they would find him soon, that it had all been a nightmare. He would wake up on the ship and eat food goo and laugh with the team. 

 

At some point, swirling around his drunken state of mind, even his friends disappeared into nothingness.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

Keith didn’t know what he would have done if Acxa hadn’t shown up at his cell. Would he have broken free? Or stayed where he was while Lance was being tortured? He brushed away his invading thoughts as he ran with Lotor’s former accomplice through the winding hallways. As much as the Black Paladin wanted to find Lance first, it would be better if they had the entire team to help fight. 

 

His anxiousness depleted as soon as they reached the group’s door. He and Acxa managed to weave through the patrols that watched the hallways. It was treacherous, but they were both slim and silent along the way. He wondered what the change of heart was for her. Why did she suddenly want to help them, so soon after Lotor’s demise? It was almost like the rest of the world was completely unreadable to Keith now. It left him confused and searching for answers. 

 

Acxa leaned against the door in front of them. “Does it have code? How does it open?”

 

“Maybe you just have to knock,” Keith offered. 

 

Before Acxa could oppose, he tapped his hand against the metal. Her eyes widened at the sound, shifting to glare at him. To their surprise, the door slid open to reveal two sentries standing directly in front of him on the other side. Judging by their late reaction, he assumed they must have thought they were someone else. Keith ducked down to swipe his foot against their legs, and they tumbled to the ground. The group from the other side made noises of shock, quickly moving forward to help them subdue their opposition. With a swift kick to the noses, Krolia knocked them out. 

 

The Black Paladin stared at her. “Thanks.”

 

They made quick work of the restraints on his friends, Acxa slicing cleanly through the handcuffs. Keith made way to the door, Hunk calling out to him before he exited. “Where are  _ you  _ going?”

 

“We have to get Lance. They took him somewhere else.”

 

“Do we know  _ where? _ ” Pidge said, exasperated, rolling her sore wrists. She sighed when Keith gave no answer. 

 

Shiro stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Concern shifted through his face. “He was hurt pretty badly when you two were taken away. Is he okay?”

 

No, Lance  _ wasn’t _ okay. Lance was probably in a similar state to when he was nearly blown to shreds by the bomb from Sendak. Unconscious on the ground, short breaths exiting his mouth, entire body burned. This time, Keith - and the rest of the group - had seen exactly what happened. _ Lance was not okay. _

 

Keith looked down, biting his lip slightly. “They left me alone in one room, taking Lance with them. I barely have a scratch, but he…” he trailed off.

 

The former Black Paladin nodded swiftly, furrowing his eyebrows. “Okay, team. We have to be careful about this. One wrong move and the entire base is alerted.”   
  


“We have to get our bayards,” Allura added. 

 

Keith nodded, determination filling his chest. “Right. Everyone, follow me.”

 

It only took a couple of minutes to find where their weapons were located. A couple of halls down, easily trackable. Two more sentries stood inside the room where they were held. To his surprise, he saw an orange tuft of hair in purple armor. Coran!

 

Keith held his breath, crouching near the door. Concentrating deeply as the other Paladins stood next to him, unsure on what to do, he summoned his bayard. It appeared satisfyingly in his grip as he rushed forward, jumping on the sentry next to the royal Altean advisor. He sliced through their armor with a grunt, knocking them out with the hilt of his sword. 

 

“Keith!” Coran perked up, relieved. “Thank goodness you’re here!” He scanned the shocked group behind him. 

 

“How did you  _ get _ in here?” Hunk asked incredulously. “How were you not captured like the rest of us?” 

 

Keith deactivated his bayard. He stepped past the group as they put on their helmets. “We can discuss this later, right now we have to find Lance.” 

 

“Lance? What’s happened to him?” Coran said, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Shiro replied, stepping next to Keith. “He’s in a separate cell, we don’t know where.” 

 

Something began to shine in the Altean’s eyes. “Oh! I believe the lad I was speaking with,” he gestured to the collapsed soldier on the floor, “mentioned something… perhaps in the private wing of the building?”

 

“Where is that?” Keith asked, growing impatient. Didn’t they understand how  _ bad  _ this was? 

 

Coran brought a hand to his chin, frowning. “Hm… I’m not sure.”

Keith wanted to pull his hair out.    
  


Acxa stepped forward, slanting her eyebrows. “I know where it is. I’ve spent weeks monitoring Ezor and Zethrid’s ships. Follow me.”

 

Before any of them could move, a loud, booming alarm rang through the hallways. Keith’s heart sank. Someone must have discovered him missing from his cell. A robotic voice echoed through the speakers above them.  _ “Attention all personnel, a prisoner has escaped their cell. Commence lockdown immediately.”  _

 

The alarm immediately got louder, making his ears ring painfully. “Acxa!” He shouted above the cacophony. She nodded, gesturing at them to follow. 

 

_ We’re going to find you, Lance,  _ Keith promised.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

When he woke, it was to blaring, deafening noise. 

 

Lance groggily opened his eyes, and for a moment - he didn’t remember anything. Who he was, where he was from. All he knew was that he was alive. But then, like a poison, memories returned, and he was back to being Lance. Back to his current miserable existence.

 

He was still shackled to the ceiling, the faint outline of blood seeping through his handcuffs. He tried his best not to move to spare himself any pain. The Red Paladin shivered, partially because of the cold, and… He felt tears well up in his eyes. Normally, he would have said  _ heroes don’t cry,  _ but he was alone now. Alone, in pain, and crying. A voice in the back of his mind said  _ pathetic.  _ Another voice said he couldn’t care less.

 

The obnoxiously loud alarm was still going, making him grit his teeth in irritation. Behind it, he heard a  _ thump _ . Immediately, the familiar ache of fear returned in his chest, and he made a soft whine of distaste. He craned his neck to peer through the eerie darkness. He sighed. Paranoia. 

 

For a moment, he just let his head hang lifelessly. Pain and fatigue returned angrily, tearing at his body. His arms were numb from hanging for only God knew how long, his skin visibly paler than he’d ever seen. He tried moving them, to no avail. Lance looked down at his body, tiredly lifting his eyelids. Bruises and crimson marks littered his skin. He looked further down, and a familiar feeling rose to his throat. Shame. 

 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he coughed out dismally, a raspy rawness where his voice should be. This sent him into a coughing fit which moved his entire body forward - causing him to cry out. Tears were now streaming down his beaten face, tickling his skin. He bit his split lower lip, and grit his teeth. He tried to hold back the sobs in his chest, only provoking them more to escape his mouth. Quietly, he cried to himself. To his mother. 

 

Timid questions arose amongst his grief. Why was the alarm going off? Was someone coming to save him? He hoped Keith got out of that cell. Oh, man.  _ Keith _ . For a reason Lance couldn’t explain, just thinking of his teammate seeing him like this made his stomach flip in humiliation.  _ Anyone _ seeing him like this would never forget what they saw. He immediately decided that it would be better they didn’t look at him. Not like he had any control whatsoever at the moment, though.  _ Pathetic.  _

 

He sighed shakily. “Hello?” 

 

_ Who was he even talking to? His captors? His friends? _

 

His only answer was the muffled alarm and his own unstable breaths. For a while, that was all he heard. The noises blended together after a while, and he got used to it. Lance closed his eyes and let a few more salty tears fall off his nose. They dropped to the floor next to a tattered, black blindfold.  _ Plop. Plip. Plop.  _ Lance stayed like that for a while. He tried to will his memories from resurfacing, but they pressed.  _ Hands. Laughter. Shame. So much shame. _

 

His abuelita appeared again, thick Spanish accent swirling through his mind. _ Life isn’t fair, Lance. You have to push through it to live,  _ she said. 

 

A loud knocking sound interrupted his thoughts. His head jolted painfully to stare at the door, wide eyes frozen in place. Then, a wave of faint familiar voices hollered behind the dark metal. 

 

_ “Lance!”  _

 

_ “Lance, you in there, buddy?”  _

 

_ “Say something!” _

 

Lance was speechless. His throat went dry. 

 

_ “Lance, it’s us!”  _

 

A wave of queasiness mixed with his internal cheering for his rescuers. He snapped out of his frozen state, calling out weakly - as loud as he could - to the team. 

 

“Guys, I’m - I’m here!” 

 

He heard shushing behind the door. A murmur of words he couldn’t understand. He kept trying, anxiousness rising to his throat. They had to know he was in here. They couldn’t leave him.

 

“Keith?” He tried asking. 

 

A distraught voice responded immediately. _ “Lance? Are you okay?”  _

 

“Um…” He was at a loss for words. Panic rocked back and forth through his stomach. Lance felt sick. “I’m…”

 

More muttering. 

 

_ “This door has a code to open. Do you know what it is?” _ Shiro asked him. Lance stared at the floor, guilty. They were putting themselves in danger out there.

 

“I-I think I remember.  _ 2-a…”  _

 

Bless his mamá for giving him a good memory. 

 

_ “Got it.” _

 

“7-6…”

 

_ “It’s working! We need one more number, Lance!”  _ Pidge shouted. 

 

He paused. What other choice did he have? 

 

“Guys. I can’t let you see me like this,” he flinched at the implication of his words. They probably already knew.  _ Stupid. _

 

_ “What do you mean? We’re not leaving you here!” _ Keith shouted, the stress of battle evident in his voice. He also sounded… concerned. That kind of made Lance want to cry. 

 

“Just - please,” he begged - tone becoming desperate. “I don’t have any…” he choked down his nausea, “I’m not wearing anything.” 

 

God, he just wanted to go home. Things were never supposed to be this way. 

 

_ “Lance?” _ He heard Keith’s rough voice through the door after a pause of silence. 

 

Lance choked out a soft reply. He wished he could wipe away his tears. “Yeah.” 

Shuffling came from outside the room. For a nerve-wracking moment, he thought they had left him. 

 

_ “Is it okay if I come in? No one else has to see you.”  _

 

Keith sounded so gentle. Sincere. Lance exhaled quietly. 

 

Lance imagined his teammate’s face - twisting in disgust as soon as he saw him - shackled to the ceiling, bleeding from more places than he could count. It would break Lance to see that. Keith would never look at him the same again. He swallowed his saliva, the bitter taste of iron making him ill. 

 

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said miserably, “please.” 

 

_ “I promise I will. I need one more number for the combination.”  _

 

“Zero.”

 

The doors slid open, and to Lance’s relief - Keith walked in with his eyes covered. His palm was pressed up against his face, his bayard tight in his other hand. The light coming from the other side was a shock to Lance, and he squinted awkwardly as his pupils adjusted. 

 

“Lance, where are you?” He asked unsurely, lips in a thin, straight line. 

 

“I’m over here. Follow my voice.” 

 

Keith reached him quickly. His hands touched Lance’s as he felt for the chains above him. He found his handcuffs - gripping them lightly. “Okay, I’m gonna cut the restraints. Do you think you can stand?” 

 

“I-I don’t know, honestly,” he whispered.

 

The Black Paladin’s face twisted into a scowl - but not directed at Lance. “That’s a  _ no _ , then, isn’t it?”

He slashed through the chains, and Lance swiftly dropped to the floor. It wasn’t too far down, about a foot and a half, but it felt like his feet were on fire when they touched the surface. He crumbled in on himself, groaning in pain. Every injury was noticeable now, hissing at the cool metal floor. “Ouch…” 

 

“Lance?” Keith sounded frantic now. 

 

He began to panic.  _ Eyes. Eyes. Eyes.  _

“Don’t - man, please,” he coughed, “keep your eyes covered.” 

 

Keith stepped forward, palm still pressed against his eyelids. “Lance, it’s okay. I’m not going to judge you.” 

 

He sighed deeply.  _ You will, if you see me.  _ Lance hated feeling so weak. “Can you find me some clothes, or a blanket? Anything.” 

 

“Sure thing.” Keith said, worry evident in his voice. He pulled his hand off his face - scanning the darkened room. In the corner, he saw a sliding drawer in the wall. Running over, he jolted it open. A musty, old uniform was inside - along with some unidentifiable Galra tech. Keith unfolded it and brushed off the dust. Covering his eyes again, he ran over to Lance.

 

Without speaking, he handed the clothes to Lance, who gladly took them. “Thank you,” he said genuinely. His bones ached as he moved his limbs into the uniform. He felt uncomfortable everywhere, but at least he could hide some of it now. 

 

“Can I…?” Keith asked softly.

 

The anxiousness that kept Lance awake was finally depleting. He stared up at his teammate, eyelids drooping in exhaustion. Everything ached, but at least he was safe with his friends. The dim colors around him swirled and merged into one black hole - sucking up the remaining light. 

 

“Keith, I think I’m gonna pass out now.” 

 

The last noise he heard as he slumped to the floor was the Black Paladin’s frantic shouts for the team - and then - 

_. _

_. _

silence.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

This was the second time.

 

The second time Keith held an unconscious, injured Lance in his arms. And hell, if the Black Paladin wasn’t getting used to it. How could he be accustomed to something like  _ this _ ? 

 

His heart pounded dangerously fast through his armor as they ran toward the Lions. 

Lance’s head lolled against his shoulder as he gripped underneath his thighs as tightly as he could. The warmth, at any other time, would be comforting - but now, it was mostly a sign that his teammate was still alive. 

 

_ Still alive.  _

_ Still alive.  _

_ Stay alive.  _

 

He reached Black, her mouth opening wide for entrance. He hurtled toward the control panel, placing Lance down as carefully as he could manage, and turned on his comms. 

 

“We need to get out of here! Everyone, blast the sides of the ship!” He shouted, adrenaline bursting through his veins. He heard the roars of Yellow, Blue, and Green, but looked helplessly as Red stayed down - unmoving.

 

_ I know Lance is your pilot, but he’s hurt right now.  _

_ Please, let’s get out of here - for his sake.  _

 

“Everyone,  _ now!” _

 

In unison, all of the Lions shot down the metal walls, air sucking them through as explosions lit up the area like fireworks. Keith turned to look at Red, who was pushed out as well - growling. He might have even let a smile come across his face.

 

He turned around in his seat to eye Lance - still as injured and silent as before.  _ It wasn’t right. _

It was terrifying - just like when he got burned by that explosion. When Lance whispered the words  _ we are a good team _ , slumping into Keith’s chest. Panic.  ~~_ Love. _ ~~

 

_ One is chance, twice is coincidence, third is a pattern.  _

_ Please,  _ Keith prayed, _ don’t let this become a pattern. _

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

Lance woke to cool hands pressing against his temples. 

He opened his eyes to hear the relieved voices of his teammates. He grimaced at the brightness around him, groaning. 

 

“Lance…” He heard Shiro say, gripping his shoulder. He instantly wanted to move the hand, but as weak as he was, he couldn’t even move a limb. Allura removed her touch from his forehead, smiling at him.  _ Of course it was her who healed him. She’d done it before.  _

 

“What happened?” He asked weakly, scanning the room for the Black Paladin. They made eye contact, Keith as unreadable as always. Something was different in those purple irises of his, though.

 

“You passed out, and we escaped Ezor and Zethrid’s ship. We were really worried about you,” Shiro explained, looking over to Keith. 

 

“Aw… thanks, guys.” He cooed, grinning at them. That seemed to relax them a bit, their tense shoulders lowering with his tone. “Why can’t I, uh, move?” 

 

Allura sighed. “As well as my Altean powers heal, you will be quite sore and incapable of movement for a few vargas-”

 

“We were lucky enough to get you out of there  _ alive _ , Lance.” Keith interrupted, staring at Lance with what?  _ Hurt?  _

 

The injured Paladin sighed - too exhausted to laugh. “Yeah, but I’m alive now, buddy. Don’t worry about me.” Keith shut his mouth, staring at the floor. Lance looked around, tilting his neck as far as he could manage. He recognized this area.“We’re in the Black Lion, aren’t we?” 

 

Shiro nodded. “Yes, we’re temporarily stationed on a small moon,  _ far away _ from Ezor’s ship. Unfortunately, there’s no breathable atmosphere, so we’re making do.”

 

“Do you, uh, want us to stay with you? You’re probably starving, aren’t you, buddy? I can make something!” Hunk rambled, gesturing to his bag of supplies. Probably more alien piss that he made into a delicious meal. As much as Lance would love to eat, he  _ had  _ to get out of the musty foreign uniform he was wearing. 

 

“Yeah, maybe later, Hunk. I think I’m going to,” he gestured to the sliding door that opened up to Black’s personal storage area, “y’know, shower, all that junk.”

 

“You’re not physically stable enough for that, Lance,” Allura pointed out as he struggled to sit up. His neck ached. “Well, Princess, I’m not your average human. I can-” he wheezed - tingling in his arms increasing,  _ “I can do this.” _

 

“Just wait an hour, dude. We’ll keep you preoccupied.” Pidge grinned, whipping out a deck of cards. Lance groaned, covering his face with his numb hands.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

Night came quickly on the moon, giving Lance yet another reason to be alone. His limbs thawed and were relatively  _ usable  _ now, and everyone had left Black. He slid off his temporary mattress the team had set up for him, body still aching numbly. His knee popped loudly as he made his way to the doors. 

 

They slid open, revealing a bathroom door on the side of the storage area. He tugged it open, fingers tingling as he did so. Lance exhaled deeply as soon as he shut the door, dropping to his knees. He drew his limbs up to his chest, letting his forehead rest between them. “Oh,” he sighed, more out of shock than relief. 

 

He stared at the musty uniform on his body. There was more skin underneath it.  _ “Okay. You can do this, Lance,”  _ he mumbled halfheartedly in Spanish. He peeled off the fabric to reveal his chest, completely absent of injury. He noticed tiny scars where the scratches had been especially deep. Little reminders of what happened to him. Maybe someday he’d get a tattoo to cover them. 

 

Some people seemed proud of their scars. Lance felt shame and humiliation. They were just another language - one every creature in the universe could understand - that the Red Paladin of Voltron wasn’t strong enough. That Lance wasn’t powerful enough to protect himself, putting his team in danger. They didn’t say it, but it would always be there. Haunting him; a shallow phantom crawling through his skin.

 

He managed to remove all of his clothes, staring at himself in the mirror.  _ Quiznack. I look worse than I thought,  _ he frowned. Lance expected the scars, the slight discolorations where bruises faded. He knew they would be there. There were just so many. 

 

He hopped in the shower, still feeling gross, and turned the heat to its hottest setting. Lance let the water run down his back, easing him away to another world. He shut his eyes and let his head rest against the wall tile. Since he woke up, he tried to shut down any memory of what happened to him.  _ Is this how Shiro feels?  _ He wondered sadly. 

 

Before Lance knew it, he was crying again. The thoughts returned, and so did the memories, liquifying through his eyes and pouring out with the water of the shower. So many reasons why he could cry, and yet this -  _ this _ is what made him break. A couple of  _ stupid  _ scratches. 

 

_ -sob- _

 

He pulled his hand up to his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart. He was alive, he would get past this eventually, but for now - it hurt so much. Lance was afraid of what else the world could do to him. He probably couldn’t even kiss anyone without thinking of  _ them.  _

 

_ Life isn’t fair,  _ his abuelita lamented, brushing back his hair,  _ but you’ll get through this, darling. _

 

Lance cried for all he was worth.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

His shower lasted for a long, long time. 

He wondered how much water Black could store, so he stopped himself from staying there all night.  _ For the team.  _

 

He tied a towel around his waist, and stepped outside. The dim lights of Black’s interior was a comforting sight, if anything. It felt… warm. Lance would probably have to get Cosmo to teleport him into Red so he could put on proper clothing. The alien uniform was in the trash, so no can do. His bare foot touched something soft as he walked forward. It was a stack of his laundry. He made a pleased noise, grabbed the clothes, and returned to the comfort of the bathroom. He’d have to thank whoever brought him his nightgown. 

 

Slipping into his soft pajamas, Lance brushed his teeth as white as he could manage, put on his face cream, and clipped his nails. It was routine, but made him feel a bit less out of place. Everything felt strange now. 

 

Even with all of this preparation, he really didn’t want to sleep. Lance was wide awake. Maybe it was because of Allura’s healing powers, or the more realistic explanation. Memories surface best in dreams. 

 

Lance decided to head back to the cockpit, humming softly as the doors slid open. To his surprise - and complete embarrassment - a tuft of raven-black hair was swaying slightly in the pilot’s seat.

 

“Keith?” He asked, voice nearly a whisper. 

 

The figure in the chair startled, standing up to look at Lance. 

 

“Wow, man. You look… awful,” he pointed out - squinting at Keith. And he did. There were deep violet bags under his eyes, and he seemed like he was just run over by one of the Lions. A quiet sting burrowed itself in Lance’s heart. 

 

Keith scoffed weakly, “Lance,” he said. 

 

“That’s my name,” the Red Paladin hummed, sitting on one of the armrests. “A great one, might I add.”

 

Lance stared Keith down for a couple of moments before the Black Paladin’s expression deflated, and he rested his head on the seat. They stayed like that for a while, before his teammate spoke up again. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Lance.”

 

He sucked in a breath. Keith heard it, biting his lip slightly - as if that had confirmed something to him. 

 

“You saved my life. I’m the one who should apologize for this mess.” Lance sighed. The Red Paladin stared up at the unfamiliar stars in the night sky. Keith shifted next to him, voice quieter than he’d ever heard it. 

 

“The blame falls on the people who hurt us - who hurt  _ you _ . I just - I should have acted faster.”

 

“Hey… look. What happened to me,  _ well _ , it sucked. I’m-” he paused, considering his next words. Next to him, Keith upturned his eyebrows bitterly. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat anything. And I’m not gonna lie to you, man. None of this - none of us would have made it out alive without you.”

 

“Lance, you know how much the team cares about you, right?” Keith sighed, languidly bringing his hand up to his face. He brushed back a strand of hair, tucking it behind his ear.  _ I’ve never seen him do that before. I like it,  _ he decided.

 

“I… I don’t know, man.” 

 

Keith pulled his knees up to his chest, mumbling something under his breath. Lance stared at him.

“ _ I  _ care about you. You better not forget that, okay?” He grumbled, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 

Something about those words comforted Lance. Maybe it was because they were coming from Keith, of all people. Superstar ace fighter pilot from the Garrison - far from Earth, of all places with  _ Lance _ . He smiled warmly.

 

“I care about you too, buddy.”

 

They both gazed through Black’s window, comfortable silence surrounding them. It had been a while since the two of them just… talked. Lance wondered if Keith knew. If he heard him crying in the shower. If he knew  _ why.  _ The ache from before was reappearing in his chest. 

 

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, eyes still fixated on the sky. 

 

Lance wondered how long it was since someone asked him. He wondered how long it was since he answered. He inhaled in a silent breath, tears welling in his dark blue spheres. 

“No,” he said - choking back the pain in his throat. 

 

“I’m really  _ not.” _

 

Keith gently grasped onto Lance’s hand. He shifted to rest his head on the Black Paladin’s shoulder, wrapping a shaking arm around his torso. Keith hugged him back, and they stayed there.

 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

_ “Shiro told me it just takes time,” Keith said, “and eventually, it gets better.” _

 

_ Lance sniffled, wiping his tears away. He let a tired grin spread across his face. _

 

_ “Yeah. I’ll get through this.”  _

  
  
  
  



End file.
